


Day 8: Fever Sex

by ImagineBeatles



Series: Magical Mystery Smut Month [9]
Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Paul, John fucks him, M/M, Magical Mystery Smut Month, Overstimulation, Paul has a fever, Shameless Smut, Top John, sorta?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:08:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25165186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImagineBeatles/pseuds/ImagineBeatles
Summary: John didn’t like seeing his lover ill. As any good partner should, he preferred to see him happy and bouncing around on his feet, rather than lie miserable in bed, bored out of his mind and barely surviving on a diet of aspirins and tea.But if this was what John got in return, he’d gladly deal with the few days every year that Paul had to lie in bed to sweat out a fever.
Relationships: John Lennon/Paul McCartney
Series: Magical Mystery Smut Month [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1811731
Comments: 14
Kudos: 89





	Day 8: Fever Sex

**Author's Note:**

> Day 8 of my magical mystery smut challenge! This was a very interesting prompt I had gotten through tumblr. Someone asked for a fic where John had sex with Paul while Paul has a fever and his body is very heated and hypersensitive. I hope you like what I made of it.

1963   
Paul let out a quiet gasp as John fucked down into him, his mouth falling slack as his fingers tangled into the bedsheets. His body lay slack, his muscles trying to clamp down around John whenever he hit Paul’s prostate, but failing in his exhaustion. To John, he looked beautiful like that, weakly moaning and gasping, too tired and heavy to move, every mask he usually put on stripped away. 

His body looked even more fragile than usual, pale and weak, trembling whenever he tried to move. John could feel him burning up as his body fought the intrusion — not of John’s cock, but of the virus that had settled itself inside of Paul and spread through him. 

There was a pink flush on both his face and his heaving chest, as well as a sheen of sweat that reminded John of how he looked after a gig, smiling and laughing and jumping in excitement as adrenaline rushed through his naturally restless body. His raven black hair stuck to his forehead, already messy even before John had even joined him in bed, and his eyes, although mostly closed, where unfocussed and teary in a way John usually only saw during sex, and even then only right before and after a drawn-out orgasm. 

Succinctly put, Paul looked gorgeous, and the little broken noises he let out — his throat too sore for anything else — shot straight through to John’s cock, making him wish he could have Paul like this forever. 

John liked fucking Paul while he was ill. Strange perhaps, but with the way Paul’s body grew hypersensitive and heated whenever a fever set in, John could barely get enough of him. Paul already had a more than perfect body, with his long slim limbs, his plump arse and his deceivingly pretty face, which made him look more like an angel than the bastard John personally knew he was. But when he had a fever, it seemed as if all of his most stunning features became even more stunning, his beauty amplified in a way John had not thought to be possible. 

And then John hadn’t even mentioned the way Paul’s body _felt_ when he shoved his cock inside of him… 

“Mmh, John…” Paul tried under him, moaning weakly, his voice barely more than a breathy rasp, and John gave another slow thrust forward. He buried himself to the hilt and held still as Paul shook around him. _“John…”_

“Shh, I’ve got you, baby. I’ve got you… Let’s give that pretty voice a rest, yeah?” John murmured, gently shushing Paul as he gave another thrust, earning himself a desperate moan. Paul’s body was still trembling, overstimulated in his hypersensitivity, but giving absolutely no resistance, allowing John to move in and out of him with exceptional ease. 

Paul let out another broken moan, head twisting from side to side as all he could do was give into John and let him use him as he pleased, his body too heavy and tired to move. John could not get over how indecently pretty he looked like that. 

Grasping him by his waist, John lifted his partner’s lower body, giving himself the extra leverage he needed to fuck into him at a better angle, groaning as he sped up his thrusts. He could feel the burning heat of Paul’s body both inside and out, and John liked the way it felt around him, making each feeling all the more intense as Paul’s velvety insides dragged over his cock. 

John didn’t like seeing his lover ill. As any good partner should, he preferred to see him happy and bouncing around on his feet, rather than lie miserable in bed, bored out of his mind and barely surviving on a diet of aspirins and tea. Paul didn’t take being ill well, always needing to stay busy and growing restless and impatient easily. He hated the worried looks and glances people threw at him. Being ill made him frustrated and cranky, and although John certainly wasn’t the best nurse, Paul definitely wasn’t the best patient either. 

But if this was what John got in return, he’d gladly deal with the few days every year that Paul had to lie in bed to sweat out a fever.

“John…” Paul moaned again, twisting under him as John hit his prostate repeatedly now, hands uselessly hanging by his side while his cock twitched and leaked precum on his belly. He moaned at every push, his eyes screwed shut as the pleasure almost became too much for his body to handle. 

“You look so good like this, baby,” John muttered as he thrust in deeper, and despite everything, Paul still managed to smile, lopsided and looking almost drunk with lust. “So pretty, lying there like that, leaking for me.”

“John…” Paul repeated, or tried to, the word coming out more as a low faltering grumble. 

“Just relax, love. I’ll make you come. I always do, don’t I?” John said, alternating his angle and slowing down to make Paul feel every inch of him as he slid in and out. Paul nodded, groaning as he tried to lift his hand to his cock. Before he could, however, John had grabbed his wrist and pulled it roughly down above Paul’s head, making his lover twist in undisguised frustration. 

“Hush now, sweetheart, you need to make sure you don’t strain yourself,” John said in a teasing voice, taking Paul’s other hand and locking both of his wrists in one hand, as his other went to hold Paul by his hip. “You’re ill after all. You shouldn’t exhaust yourself.” 

Paul mewled, actually _mewled,_ at that and forced himself to open his eyes, looking up at John with a glaring yet pleading look, his lips trembling with need. He looked almost delirious, eyes moving wildly over John’s features, hands jerking weakly in John’s hold, his breathing rapid and short. The sight alone was enough to awaken something deep inside of John, and with a growl, he began fucking into Paul harder, causing his lover’s eyes to roll back in his head and his mouth to open wide as if in a constant silent gasp. 

“Fuck… Macca…” John moaned, latching his mouth onto the boy’s shoulder and biting down as he thrust in harder, unable to stop now that he had started. He licked at the sweaty skin as he dove his cock in and out as deep and far as it would go, chasing the orgasm that had steadily built since he had first pushed his cock into Paul’s slack and wanting mouth. 

His hand slipped from Paul’s wrist, but instead of moving down to grasp at his cock, Paul’s hands moved to claw at his biceps, clinging to John as he gasped and moaned over and over again. John couldn’t help but lift his head to look at him, watching as Paul’s eyes flickered open and close with each of his thrusts, lips moving wordlessly, wanting to speak but lacking the power to do so. 

Reaching a hand down, John took Paul’s cock in his hand, watching eagerly how Paul cried out at the feeling. He drank in the sight of Paul’s head lolling from side to side, the man barely conscious as all he could do was let it all happen to him. 

“Come for me, Macca. _Come on,_ baby. Come for me. You’ve done _so_ well,” John managed to make out, and Paul could only whine in response, his nails digging into John’s flesh as he clutched at him harder. John watched as the last of the control Paul always so desperately clung to fell away, leaving him bare and naked, not just physically but emotionally. It was a side of him no one else saw, and even John was granted that privilege only on a few rare occasions. But that knowledge, that only _he_ saw Paul like this, pure and unprotected, made John bite down his lover’s shoulder in a desperate attempt to hold off his orgasm a tiny bit longer. 

“Come on, Macca…” he tried again, begging now, and flicked his wrists a few times, helping Paul closer to his orgasm that could only be seconds away. 

When it finally came, Paul’s entire body spasmed and trembled, his body convulsing around John as he spilled over his hand. His whole frame quivered with over-sensitivity, his nails digging into John’s flesh, and with a deep growl, John came too, fucking himself hard into Paul’s body, his lover’s name on his lips. 

His body gave out at the intensity of his orgasm, making him fall onto Paul. His arms came up to cradle his lover’s body, and he buried his face into the crook of the other’s neck to catch his breath. Paul was still trembling under him, and John ran his hands over his body soothingly. 

“You okay?” John asked, speaking into Paul’s neck, too tired to lift his head. 

“Y-yeah… tired,” Paul barely managed, still sounding a little woozy, and John held him a little tighter as he pressed a kiss to his damp skin. He knew Paul’s orgasms were always more intense when they did this, and he always needed a while to come down from the high. Usually some sleep would do him well, and judging by the way Paul sounded, it wouldn’t take long for him to drift off.

Forcing himself to lean up on his elbows, John looked down at his lover, reaching out to lightly stroke his fingers over Paul’s face. His skin was pale, but there were bright red spots on his cheeks. He was breathing slowly now, his eyes closed in peaceful rest, and he let out a soft moan as John brushed some loose strands of hair out of his face. 

“You should rest,” John said, and when Paul let out a moan of complaint, he laughed, leaning in to place a gentle kiss first to his cheek, then his nose and finally his lips. 

He lingered there for a moment, before pulling back, watching as Paul smiled at him. 

“You might get ill now,” Paul muttered, voice thick and heavy, yet fragile with exhaustion. John hummed as he began to run his fingers through his lover’s hair, massaging the man’s skull as he leaned down for a second kiss, which Paul returned with a chuckle. 

“It will have been worth it. You deserve to be properly looked after.” 

“Daft git,” Paul moaned, a hint of laughter in his voice, trying to push John’s face away when he leaned in again. The muscles in his arms, however, were still too weak and John could easily grasp his wrist, pushing it back into the pillow by Paul’s head as he kissed him again.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks again, chut, for editing this with me. It's so much more fun this way. And thanks everyone for their support on the last chapter!! I'm so relieved to see so many people loving it. It was a struggle, but getting that feedback always makes it worth it and gets me excited for the next one. I wouldn't be able to do this without you guys!! 
> 
> Tomorrow's prompt will be "gun play". Interesting...


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